Dull eyes, losing mind (on hold)
by Melancholic-Lotus13
Summary: Jack has been alone for a hundred years, of course he could still be happy even in isolation that is if the other spirits would've left him be. The hatred and the murderous gleam that burned in their eyes, their venom filled words that bit into his skin, it was all too much. But, what if, someone had taken him in? What went better with cold and...? (full summary inside)
1. Chapter 1

**So this is if anyone actually wants to read this story. comment if you want me to continue this and if you have any ideas I'd like to hear them. just one thing: no ships.**

 **summary:** **Jack has been alone for a hundred years, of course he could still be happy even in isolation that is f the other spirits would've left him be. Those years that he had to be mentally and physically tortured, started taking a toll. The hatred and the murderous gleam that burned in their eyes, their venom filled words that bit into his skin, it was all too much. Darkness was what he first remembered, who knew it was an omen that suggested him being alone in it. But, what if, someone had taken him in? They saw the lack of spark and knew what it meant. They didn't want to see him lose his mind. What went better with cold and...?**

Darkness. It was just nothing yet it was something. It hung in the corners, in places where the light didn't reach—couldn't shine, in one's mind. The first thing people are afraid of when they first come to the world. As they grow, some continue to fear it, others adapt to it, while the unique ones find comfort in it. People always steered clear of the unique ones—only when they find out—in fear of going insane themselves. The darkness was quiet and mostly fools (as what most people thought of the unique ones) would enjoy locking themselves away with the risk of losing their mind.

Alas, there are those few who are forced to spend by themselves in the silent, cold and unforgiving arms of Darkness. These are forced into madness without a clue of what they did to deserve such a fate. The lucky ones are those who are found before such a thing were to happen. While some are found a little too late. Their mind had slowly gone, leaving a problematic one behind. These have a chance of being save or going fully insane.

One of those unfortunate souls was a winter spirit named, Jack Frost. He was a winter spirit left alone for a hundred years in darkness, silence, and disdain—who were to blame him if he did go off the deep end? He was the bringer of cold, starvation, fear and death which were the reasons why the other spirits hated despised the young winter spirit. Humans, they had no clue he even existed, they couldn't see, touch or hear him. Alone in the cruel, cruel world with only pain and suffering that were brought by and onto him. He slowly started going insane. It was frightening, to say the least, he didn't know what this feelings that were coming over him. He didn't know why he was cursed to be the way he was and the voices were not helping the situation, neither were the spirits. It got so bad that he started hiding, avoiding any and every contact with others.

There were a few close encounters but he managed to get away before anything could get too bad. He stayed in isolation, being in the unforgiving cold of Antarctica and only leaving to do his job. There were some spirits that had noticed how he never smiled as much as he used to but instead he had no emotion, just dull blue eyes that were drained of joy. Some spirits didn't know what that meant. They've never seen a fellow spirit lose their spark. Even Pitch Black—the Nightmare King—still had a gleam in his golden orbs. Never had a spirit have dull eyes, not even the eyeless ones (a small burning flame was all one could see) and yet no one said or done a thing. They decided a may not even be anything important, probably a phase he was going through, seeing as he looked to be around his teenage years when he became a spirit (not that it stopped other spirits from giving him some bruises).

A few months had passed since the last time they had seen the winter spirit happy or even give off a small smile. Only some of the caring spirits were getting worried since they didn't know what it meant for the always joyful male. Of course, no one dared to even so much as to speak to him.

It was almost the end of winter for the northern hemisphere and Jack was making his last rounds for the day when he was approached by a black cloaked figure. The figure rode a beautiful obsidian horse, its mane blowing in the wind, and its eyes were pure carmine. The moon was a crescent in the sky but its light was blocked by thick, dark clouds so it was difficult for Jack to see who the figure was, of course he didn't care since everyone who could see him only hurt him. The wind was anxious, terrified almost as it whispered to Jack, telling him they should leave. This figure must be greatly feared for the wind would never have acted this way towards another. Then again, the mare's image seemed to be rippling as it goes from a furred animal to that of a skeleton. This would make anyone want to turn high tail and get out of there. His dull, sunken eyes traveled to the figure astride the said animal.

Said figure gave off a dark and disturbing aura as it watched the winter spirit. It noticed the lack of spark, the way his youthful face had not one emotion. The figure could feel the shift in the wind, feeling the fear it had around its presence. It could feel the protectiveness that the abiotic thing had for the child. Of course, there was a reason why he was here. It was for what the moon stole from it.

A movement caught the rider's attention and saw the boy move to leave. It reached out, wrapping a skeletal hand around the boy's arm, noticing the flinch that he gave. Silence hung in the cold, crisp air as it wrapped around them like a blanket. Jack didn't need to be told who this was, for he had realized who this person was and had a thought of what it might want.

"Come with me," the figure said. "I wish to speak with you." Jack couldn't describe his voice sounded. It was low and raspy, yet smooth and soothing with an underlying tone as if he held a promise to not mess with him. It was hard to give any type of detail, hard to even pinpoint on its mood.

The white haired boy hesitated but had a feeling that he was telling the truth. He only wanted to talk, not to harm him in anyway. He hoped that he would keep up to it. Nodding, much to the discomfort of the wind, Jack followed him. If all went well, who better to take him in than Death?


	2. Chapter 2

**I have no schedule on updates, i guess it's going to be like a day after I finish the chapter or I may hold it back a little longer. I'm not exactly sure what i will do. i don't like saying i'll update on so-and-so each week and miss a day, so it may just be spontaneous updating. anyways here's the chapter, a little short but hopefully it's good.**

Death wasn't the one that took anyone in unless they were dead. Then again, Jack was supposed to be in the afterlife, not made into a spirit but the Man in the Moon had interjected with him. He _despised_ the moon for doing this, he had no clue that it could unsettle the balance between Life and Death. Life was one the worst as well, she could get on his nerves with some things that happened forever ago, she always held grudges. Death was blamed for something and he didn't even try on defending himself, no point in doing so. That wasn't the point though, but was was that the Man in the Moon did not know boundaries. He did whatever he wanted and didn't think of the consequences that could come from it. He just kept poking his nose into things that didn't pertain to him. Death was not going to let him continue getting his way, especially not with this. Jack Frost, bringer of winter pertained to him as well. He brought death whether he or anyone else liked it or not. He was going to train the winter spirit, he was going to learn how to despise the moon. Death knew what was going to be the boy's future and he wasn't going to lose him to that retched moon.

The boy held no joy, no hope, no _anything._ It was not something you see in any spirit, for he himself had a slight spark in his eyes as well. This was not anything a person of the supernatural should have. The boy for the past hundred years only knew pain and knew not to trust anyone, and that was because the moon didn't even try to intervene. Death could feel the dark clouded thoughts that lingered in his mind, feeding off every negative that happened to the winter spirit. The elder, ancient spirit wasn't going to leave him alone, he was nothing like the moon that only used pawns for his sick and twisted games, yet all his pawns loved and worshiped him or at most, respected him in some way. Of course, Pitch Black completely despised the moon and no way would ever even hold an ounce of respect. Death glanced at the young one, silently promising to never leave him.

 _A wolf and its prey._ That was the best way to describe the relationship between the Grim Reaper and the winter spirit.

* * *

No one had seen the nuisance in so long. Some think that he's only hiding while others think he's gone and faded, which might not be possible since it couldn't happen to the younger ones even if they want to fade. They'd have to wait for a millennium before that could happen. Although, many throw that idea out since, much to their dismay, winter does still come around. Some seasonal sprites had looked for Jack during those times since they want to prove that he was still around, plus many summer sprites forced the spring and fall to do it since they can tolerate the cold. Summer sprites wanted to have a go at the young winter brat. That was all they liked about him, entertainment. It was to no avail, it seemed as if Jack had simply disappeared without a trace. After a few years, they gave up since they didn't want to come off as caring for the ice brat. No Jack Frost to annoy them and they enjoyed the silence.

Thing was, one yeti, one helper of North knew what happened to him. Knew what and who Jack was before being made the Bringer of Cold. Phil, as Jack named him, knew that the moon made a mistake and it was one he could not reverse. He grew more and more worried at the lack of the spirit's boisterous mood and that mischievous smirk of his, the one that can many people either scared or furious. The last time the joyful boy came was about fifty years ago and the last time the could see the spark that made him him, fading and from overhearing the conversations that Bunnymund, the easter bunny, had with North, he had no spark in them after a few months. The oversized rabbit always got on the yeti's nerves with all the complaining he did on Jack, the poor boy that was simply misunderstood and never given a chance.

When the boy's disappearance was brought up, the rabbit seemed glad, rambling on and on about how good it was and whatnot. It made Phil's blood boil. He knew nothing about that "winter ice brat" as the bunny once called him. He may be a yeti but he never forgets a child that he made toys for, Jack Frost, his life before this cursed life was one he could _never_ forget. How could he ever stop remembering that laugh? The one so full of joy and life, who could ever forget that? And when death came to that boy, the Man in the Moon meddled and oh, how Death was not _happy._ No fool but the moon would ever try to get in Death's way. This had happened once before and after a while, Death took revenge and what better way than targeting the spirit that had escaped his clutches? The bringer of the end was not one to mess with and the yeti _knew_ that, forPhil had crossed paths with Death once before. It may have been a brief but even in that slight meeting, he knew that _he_ was not one to mess with if angered. For the moon to have meddled with Death's job and to leave the poor soul alone to suffer all the ridicule that he did, well what was stopping Death–

The yeti stopped what he was doing, cutting that thought of. He stared at the table, stared and stared and stared. He couldn't do anything but stare. Why didn't he think of it sooner? Why did the thought never cross his mind until ten years later?

Death may have gotten what was _his_ that night Jack Frost disappeared.


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's the third chapter, hope yall enjoy. It's short but i'm am going to _try_ in writing more lengthy chapters once I get more into it. I know i will end up doing so. Thank yall for the wonderful reviews. Tell me what yall would like to see in further chapters!**

When Death, Thanatos as he told Jack to call him, came that night to talk to him, Jack was having mixed feelings. He wasn't exactly afraid of the male, but he wasn't all that thrilled to see him. His gaze swept across the room they were in, not finding anything all grand or anything. Shadows hung in the corners, the walls were a cool gray that were smooth to the touch, there was no ceiling so it showed the dark sky that was spotted with a few stars here and there but the thing Jack noticed was the lack of the moon. He didn't know why, but he felt relieved and glad for the lack of presence of the glowing orb that made him and left him to the mercy and fury of the others. He felt a sudden chill but it wasn't the normal cold chill that he brought but the chill that was followed by the end of one's life. It was then he realized that Thanatos had came up behind him and was waiting for him to speak, but he didn't. He really didn't trust himself to speak. His mouth always got him into trouble. Jack's dull and sunken, crystal blue eyes moved from one thing to another, never once looking at Thanatos.

He sighed, noticing that the winter boy was not going to say anything, he led him around his home. The wind was curled around the boy, it reminded the Grim Reaper of a child that would always have a blanket with them everywhere they went before they end up giving it up, except for the boy and the wind would never give each other up just like he would never give Persephone up for the world itself. He knew what an unbreakable bond was when he saw one and he knew that they would never give the wind up. Death was everywhere at every second of every day for the past may milleniums and nothing was going to change. Strong bonds come and go but in the afterlife, or even reincarnation, do friendships continue living.

The silence that hung in the air like a curtain was comfortable. No tension was even there which surprised Thanatos since usually when he is with anyone a solemn tension is always over them, but not with this young boy who seemed to never show any type of emotion, the one that lost something that no spirit thought possible. It was a very concerning topic because even those who wanted to fade away never lost the light in their eyes yet here, this new spirit barely a hundred years old did. He hoped to be able to bring back those youthful, shining and beautiful orbs. _Jack Frost, what happened to you?_ For the one to be mischievous, to bring laughter and joy, it was bad—no, not bad but grave. What was the moon thinking leaving this young soul alone to the rabid spirits that hated the cold and suffering that he brought and letting the Spark be lost. His mind, he could feel was shrouded in darkness, the demons of negativity were starving and were ready to feed as the boy slowly be driven to insanity. Darkness with no light can always overwhelm the victim until there's nothing left but the shell of their former self.

Jack rubbed the bags under his sunken eyes, which Thanatos had just noticed. He noticed the exhaustion that the winter boy was feeling from the way his body sagged slightly. He didn't need to read the emotion in those lifeless orbs but the body language he was displaying. He only showed one thing and it was exhaustion. He wasn't wary of his surroundings, which once again surprised Thanatos, he seemed to be slightly accepting of the new area. It was as if he was expecting something, something that only _he_ can bring to the shepherd of cold. He knew what _it_ was but even he couldn't do that. Jack Frost was stuck in between and it was all the moon's fault. Something was needed to do so, but what exactly? He never had this big of a problem and it was not easy. Tsar Lunar's power was surprisingly a little stronger this time.

* * *

It was after ten years did Jack slowly get used to being by Thantos' side. He was still quiet and emotionless but he still spoke slightly. A man of few words he was described as by the other Reapers who helped collect the souls of those perished. He helped as well. When one is to die, he helps end the pain by simply freezing the heart. It was quick and painless, it was better than letting them continue going through pain. Of course once their soul is out, he unfreezes the heart to make it seem they died in their sleep. He shepherded the winter and collected the souls that passed in them, making quick work before leaving the scene.

He was never spotted on his errands, simply for he wore a black, silk cloak and always had the hood up, the cowl obscuring his face with the shadows. Jack had always used the cover of the night ever since he started hiding and even when he got Thanatos' help mostly because everyone thought he was just another Reaper and didn't mess with him. He was always out of the place before dawn since he didn't want to go through another beating fest. He enjoyed the fact that they thought he was a Reaper since he rather have them keep their distance than having to enduring the beatings that they would give him. _They_ were at fault for how he was. He only wanted the people to be happy but it only got him hatred and disappointment. No spark in his eyes, no emotions being displayed. He was barely living anymore. Thanatos had told him that it was strange because this never had happened to any spirit and didn't know what he was going to do. He tried helping revive the light, but it was a lost cause.

Sighing in exhaustion, Jack sat against a tree, listening to the wind's song. He tried to smile, he really did, for the wind's sake but he couldn't. He just didn't have the energy in him to even bring the corner of his up. He practically gave up after the last sixty years and just kept an emotionless mask, keeping everything inside. He ignored the voices, the _demons_ that kept getting louder and louder every single day. Once it got so bad that he had huge power bursts in Antarctica. He was fortunate enough to have gotten there before he caused a blizzard. He was _trying_ to not let them win but how could one win against things that were in their mind? How could he keep staying sane if all he ever got was the cold shoulder or got beatings and complete disdain by the ones that could see him, not to mention continuously reminded that he didn't exist in the minds of humans? He could feel himself slipping, his mind crumbling at times and it terrified him but he never let the fear show. He always stayed strong for the ones who never cared for him. He knew what would happen if he were to break and go ballistic. He was hoping it would never happen, but fate as he's seen, it was never kind, _especially_ to him.


	4. Chapter 4

The lost spark was hard to revive. Thanatos was pacing his study, wracking his mind over it. How could he fix it? How could he bring back something that was a key to someone's sanity? He didn't know what he was going to help the boy. He knew that he was slipping, but how long did he have before the boy snapped? He was mulling over ideas before La Muerte came in. She was a beautiful woman with pure black hair braided and hung over her shoulder, her dark skin had beautiful designs as her face was painted like a sugar skull, and she was a few centimeters shorter than Thanatos. She wore a white, torned silk dress that reached her ankles and seemed to be rippling like fog with every step she took. "Where is the boy?" she questioned with a heavy hispanic accent, her dark chocolate brown eyes never leaving the main death spirit.

"He's with the other Reapers, is there something you need?" Thanatos looked at the woman, she seemed to have a serious expression on her face but it was difficult to tell with the paint. He wasn't in his skeletal form. He was an extremely pale, dark eyes that held a solemn expression as he stared into her orbs. He was wearing a gray and black Italian suit.

"Wondering how it was going with him, if he seems closer to reviving what he lost." La Muerte cocked her head to the side. She also wanted to meet him, hearing good things from the Reapers.

Before Thanatos could answer, Jack walked in. His lifeless eyes sweeping between the two. He bowed his head, apologizing for interrupting in his monotone voice. He turned to leave but the woman, he recognized as La Muerte, grabbed his hand. He automatically tensed and felt his fight-or-flight response acting up. He stared at the woman, waiting for her to strike him. When it didn't come, Jack took a peek over at the sugar skull painted female. She wore a sad look in her eyes, glancing over at Thanatos who held the same look. "I won't hurt you, _flor hermoso_." She couldn't believe what she saw, no light, no emotion, nothing, but he expected. He expected to be hurt by people. _How dare anyone hurt a child such as him?_ She had heard from the Reapers that had come across him before he lost the gleam, he was such a joyful child, his laugh would bring a smile to one's face and his bright, blazing eyes held so much positivity and innocence that he was like a baby panda, adorable and must be protected at any cost.

Jack stayed silent, awkwardly shifting and taking his hand from her grasp. He shifted his weight from foot to foot.

* * *

The night was dark but it was darker in the home of the Nightmare King, Pitch Black. He had heard of the spirit that lost the gleam in his eyes. It was a huge topic in the Spirit Realm, his nightmares had caught wisps of the conversations that the others have held and he was quite intrigued, not after the first conversation he was informed about did he feel the fear of insanity course through him. He could mark the source and it was from someone in Antarctica and he knew it was the "winter brat" not that he called him that. He didn't even know who this was, never met the male, but if he wasn't liked then maybe he could relate to him. They both knew what it meant to be hated, to be alone, to fear of the _demons_ that lurked in the darkest corners of their minds.

Onyx, his lead mare and the first one he ever made, came whimpering and seemed to be quite jittery. That was when he noticed the blue frost that was coating her left flank. He narrowed his silvery golden eyes, scowling to himself.

"I don't appreciate being followed," came a monotone voice. It held no emotion, no life, _nothing._ It was quite chilling, almost unexpected. The adult male turned and found a white haired, blue eyed teenager. His bangs covered most of his eyes but he could see the thing that was missing from them, the gleam. He knew who this boy was, but what was he doing in his lair. "Consider it a warning, next time I won't hesitate to freeze it and shatter it."

Pitch glowered, growling at the boy's threat. He opened his mouth to say something, but never got the chance.

"I don't make threats, I make promises," he cut in before disappearing in a flurry of snow, leaving a fuming Pitch. He knew he was going to regret it later but he didn't care. That was a few hours before having gone back to the Soul's Kingdom before the summer sprites would see him.

Pitch took a breath, glancing at Onyx. "How could you let him see you?" he yelled in anger before calming down. He couldn't believe that the rumors were true, that child was practically a walking corpse. He just didn't know that that was what the winter boy actually was. The Nightmare King could feel another surge of fear course through him, heck he always feels surges of fear course through him but the Jack Frost's fear was stronger than anyone's fear. He had something to be terrified, he had a reason to cower and shake and cry about. He was afraid of himself and who wouldn't be? He brought famine and death and cold. Not to mention that he could always lose himself to the demons that lurked in his mind, screaming at him, coaxing him into things that could be quite harmful. He sent Onyx because he felt like something would've happened, something was going on, the turmoil in his mind was getting out of control.

Pitch could sometimes hear the four horseman and their followers curse at the moon, none more than the death bringers themselves. The moon always intervened with things he should never get into. The Nightmare King knew that they had reasons and he, himself, had reasons to hate the moon, but Jack Frost had a bigger reason. He was to be resting in peace but he was made immortal, left alone in the world with no memories and to the hatred of the moon's followers.

Jack Frost was an enigma but not to mention a ticking time bomb. It left the question to the king of fears: how long until he goes off the deep end?

* * *

Thanatos placed a hand on Jack's shoulder. It's been about fifteen years since he took in the bloy and there would be times where the spark ignited again, flickering like a candle for a few seconds before being extinguished. But there was still hope, one of the oldest spirits had started to hope again. The boy was making the ancient hope again. Most think he was trying to prevent a tragedy, but he was trying to prevent the broken soul spiral down into the dark abyss that he's seen humans go through. If the boy were to go insane then comeback to find how many people he killed and feel intense amounts of remorse. How could fate—no the _moon_ be so cruel?


	5. Chapter 5

Jack listened to the La Muerte and Thanatos, non-blinking. He was not sure what he was going to do and he was sure that they were going to try and help him. How, was the question that was on everyone's minds. It was as if something was trying to keep them guessing, taking away everything and anything. Thing was, to both death spirits, _Jack_ was everything and anything. "...so that everything will be okay, okay?"

He must've zoned out but he got the gist. "Okay," he replied, shifting his staff from one hand to the other. It's been fifteen years since Thanatos had taken him in. He was officially a hundred and fifteen years old. He has been battling the demons for about seventeen years now. He stopped smiling for sixty-five years, stopped showing emotion around fifty years and the last time anyone's seen the spark about eighteen years. He was ninety-seven almost a hundred. Through the fifteen years, Thanatos and everyone had been helping him. He was grateful but at the same time he was feeling like he was being a burden. Those damned demons were screaming at him when he was alone but he did his best to ignore them. He was slowly starting to show emotion again, giving soft and very unnoticable smiles. Baby steps, he was taking baby steps but it was still better than nothing.

He had some bad days and after the encounter with Pitch, Jack had kept up his guard. He always looked around in case another nightmare was around watching him. He was spreading small flurries when it happened, he tensed and he wished that it was his imagination.

"Well, boys, look who decided to show up," said a nasty and high pitched voice that belonged to no one other than Kiara Falls. She was a small, cubby autumn sprite, who proclaimed herself above everyone else. Beside her were her two lackeys, Jack didn't know what their names were, mostly since they were silent, big and buff guys. He turned around and found himself staring into their amber colored orbs.

Jack kept his face void of any type of emotion, staring at them like a doll. He said nothing to them. He didn't need to even say anything because at that moment, Mortimer, one of Jack's Reaper friends, came. He was tall and slender, being extremely skinny as if he never ate. His bones stuck out and while most it wouldn't look good, he made it work somehow. His silk cloak ruffled around, the bottom seemed to make the illusion of water rippling. He had his signature scythe strapped to his back. The autumn sprites eyes were wide and seemed to almost pop out of their sockets. They knew a Reaper when they were to see that cloak, why was it there?

"Jack, you're needed at the Soul's Kingdom," he said, his voice raspy. Jack bowed slightly in respect and nodded, flying off. Mortimer turned his obsidian eyes towards the sprites. "You are not to say a word. You never saw Jack Frost and you will never engage him unless he says otherwise, which I find unlikely."

Kiara nodded frantically and disappeared with her lackeys. She knew never to cross a Reaper, but that didn't stop the flurry of questions that ran through her mind. Why was Jack Frost needed in the kingdom runned by the Grim Reaper himself? Her mind was running a hundred miles per hour. Jack Frost was an enigma, that was for sure and for the first time in a hundred and fifteen years, she thought of the winter spirit without hatred.

Mortimer smirked to himself and headed back to the kingdom, he was protecting what was left of the boy's sanity. Jack was hanging off a cliff holding onto a rope, slipping slightly before tightening his grip and pulling himself up a bit, but he would get tired soon, just how soon?

Jack greeted a few other Reapers, bowing slightly then going on his way. The Soul's Kingdom was also known as the Netherworld, Underworld, whatever people decide to think of it. Heaven, Purgatory, Hell. It was different to those who thought differently. It was gray skied, with a few hints of blues, purples and pink, a bit of red and orange. It was actually beautiful, the air was breathable slightly sour due to the monsters that roamed around. Monsters of Punishment. There were a few animals, the pets of the ones that actually cared, the ones who cried over their deaths and regretted everything. The ground was smooth pavement, branching off and leading off to different parts of the kingdom. There was a beautiful lake, shimmering a glittering blue but was covered with a thin layer of fog. All in all, it was beautiful and creepy.

Mortimer came up to the young immortal, walking alongside him without a word. The wind was wrapped around him again. Mortimer had noticed the unbreakable bond the two had and couldn't help but wear a ghost of a smile whenever he saw it. He wondered if Jack could understand it, but he may be able to since many Reapers have whispered something about him responding to the singing of the wind.

* * *

Bunnymund was in his warren when he felt it, the chill of cold. He thought it was the winter teen, but unlike Jack, he couldn't tell the difference between cold and death. Famine, with the paleness of his skin and grey eyes that held intelligence and a fire, loomed over the rabbit. He had black hair and was completely skinny, representing his element of the Four Horseman. The overgrown rabbit turned and his ears laid flat on his head in slight fear, he didn't know why Famine was visiting him, but he knew that it was nothing good.

"Hello, Kangaroo," said the spirit of starvation. His voice was silvery, clear and pleasant as well as light, yet it held a slight rasp. He stood tall, about several inches taller than the rabbit, who didn't bother correcting Famine that he was not a kangaroo. "Cat got your tongue?"

Bunny shook his head, trying to shake off his shock. He blinked, wringing his paw like hands. His accent seeped into his question as he asked, "Famine, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

Famine kept a straight face, raising a simple eyebrow. "I was wondering if you have heard or even seen Death anywhere. He's disappeared and it's been a few months."

Bunny shook head, stuttering through his words. "N-no, I-I d-don't think I have, mate. H-honestly, ha-haven't left the warren."

Famine nodded, thanking the rabbit as he headed out. Once he was gone, Bunny sighed in relief with a hand over his chest. He was muttering to himself, never have met one of the Four Horseman face to face before. He had heard stories that some spirits or even sprites had told about their encounters with them but that was what they were, stories, or so he hoped. He hoped to never have to meet one them. He was slightly terrified, of course, he wouldn't tell anyone that tidbit. He had to tell the other Guardians about this. He quickly made his way to the tunnels and headed to the North Pole.

* * *

Jack had been shocked when he learned Thanatos was missing. The last few months had flown by without a trace of the ancient. The Soul's Kingdom was in chaos when they learned their king was missing, but after everyone was calm, they turned to La Muerte for she was the second in command, Thanatos always looked to her if something were to happen. La Muerte was a great leader and she was like Jack's mother, making sure that he was safe and sound. He saw Thanatos as his father as well, but at the moment he was going to dwell on it as he searched with Mortimer.

They didn't talk at all the whole time, but they didn't need to. It was something that all Reapers have, a telepathic connection, something Jack was able to use after spending years with them and Thanatos giving him the ability to. They listened to the wind's singing, changing her pitch with every crook and cranny. They were at peace with one task in mind, finding their king. Unknown to them, for they haven't paid attention, the spark in the cold teen was flickering again with determination.

 **So this is my longest chapter, but a 100 words from the 3rd chapter. Hope y'all are liking this story. Any ideas for Thanatos's whereabouts is appreciated.**


	6. Chapter 6

"Jack, we need to take a break," said Mortimer as he came to a stop. He stared at his friend-almost-brother, seeing as his blue eyes were flickering with a burning fire of determination to find their father-like-figure. He held a soft smile glad to see it starting to flourish once again. The winter boy sat down against the trunk of an old maple tree. They have been both looking for Grim Reaper while reaping souls. _Jack could become a great Reaper if it wasn't for the fact that he's a moon spirit,_ mused Mortimer. Many Reapers didn't trust the winter boy for that reason but they never outright say anything, they tolerate him because Thanatos trusts and likes him. Mortimer felt sad for the boy, the one that was hated by anything and everyone, for he was the outcast. He had noticed the liking the Four Horseman had taken to the boy, it was a strange thing to ever happen, especially if War were to like him.

Jack played with his snowflakes, causing a small tornado on his palm. He listened to Mortimer as he brought out a map of the world and coming up with a plan. He had crossed out many of the places that all Reapers and themselves have looked. He sighed and twirled a silver dagger before flipping it to where the hilt is pointed at Jack. "Here," he offered.

The oy eyed the dagger before hesitantly taking it from the Reaper. "Thank you, Morty," he said with gratitude in his tone. He strapped it to his thigh, nodding to himself.

"It looks good on you," he commented as he ruffled his white locks. "When we get back, I'll teach you how to use it."

Jack accepted and they got back to searching for their lost king. It was quiet once more before it all went down the drain when they ran into Deatheaters. They were the enemies of Reapers, hence the name Deatheaters, also known to others as Souleaters. They ate the souls or bodies of the ones that Reapers are too slow to get to. Hideous creatures they were and they found themselves staring right at each other.

* * *

North was surprised to have heard that Death was missing. After Bunnymund was visited by Famine, he went to tell for North. He had called the other Guardians of Childhood who got there about a few minutes after he had called them. Bunnymund explained to them that Famine had come to him. They were all shocked to learn that one of the most ancient spirits was missing and no one had a clue as to where. They even asked for Manny's help but he only responded that it was being taken care of and not to worry about at all.

"I don' know mate," replied Bunny as he hopped nervously around the pole. "If Death is missin' wouldn' tha' throw off the balance between Life and Death?"

"I know Bunny, but Manny said no' ta vorry." North didn't mention that he was slightly panicked as well. If one of the Four Horseman was missing wouldn't that throw the world into chaos? Whoever was the one to have captured him, must've not been thinking, having endangered many people and themselves. Manny better be right about having it taken care of because it would not be pretty if those who was chosen, fail.

"Jack Frost!" cried a female as she ran into the room.

Bunny glared at the fire when he heard that name. "Wha' abou' tha' bugger? Didn' he fade or somethin'?"

Kira shook her head, her eyes wide with fear. "He's with the Reapers. One told me to not say anything about our encounter, but I just had to tell you that the winter brat was with the dead spirits."

No one had anything to say, but that was cut off when amounts of whispers erupted through the whole pole. _Spoken when have been told not, now the consequences for defying a Reaper. Kira Falls, for until it's lifted, shall not be able to speak._

Everyone's eyes widened in surprise when they heard it, glancing at the autumn sprite who tried to speak but nothing came out. She defied a Reaper when she knew not to, and now she was to pay the cost of it. She was lucky that the Reapers didn't decide to force to watch the tortures or something. Every spirit knew never to defy a Reaper. It was something even worse if they were to defy their king or even the other Horseman.

Kira had tears streaming down her face as she cried for the loss of her voice. The same thought was going through everyone's minds: why would a Reaper protect the winter spirit?

* * *

Most would be terrified when they would be taken from all they knew. Thanatos knew that they'd be looking for him, but in his weakened state, he wouldn't be able to tap into his powers. He didn't know what he could benefit his abductor but he was sure that it was not going to be for a tea party. He just hoped that the balance wouldn't go out of whack for La Muerte and their Reapers should be able to handle it, but he was the original death spirit, one of the Four Horseman, without him there'd be no balance. He was hoping that they'd find him soon, and one thing he didn't know was where he was being held. Oh, wait, he didn't even know who was the one that even took him! Thanatos glanced around the cell, hoping to figure out where he was but he couldn't. He sighed and crossed his legs as he waited for his kidnapper.

The door opened and in came a tall male with black wings sprouting from his back. He was bare chested and wore dark purple pants. He was muscular with his hair styled in a mohawk type. Thanatos's eyes would've widened (they weren't just sockets at the moment) when he saw him enter. He knew who it was, and he hoped to figure out their plan. They wouldn't capture him if it were for something stupid. Thanatos knew what they were capable of, the only people slightly stronger than the Four Horseman. As the male got closer any hope he had diminished as he whispered, "No."

 **Whoa, what is going on? Sorry it's short, but whatever. And everyone but one person got it wrong. Why did people automatically assume it was Pitch? Pitch isn't strong enough to even get out of his hole, why else would he take a millennium before he struck the Big Four? Plus Pitch being the whole villain is so mainstream. I mean, yes he is a villain in the movie, but honestly, I love Pitch. Some fear is needed whether people like it or not. I see Pitch as the Guardian of Courage. Sue me if I actually like someone who deserves more than just hate.**


	7. Chapter 7

It was a chilling moment, he couldn't believe what was happening, not being able to think of what these people wanted. Why did they need him. What was the point of taking him? The male grinned down at the old spirit, humming as he got closer to the old man. "We heard you have something that is quite fascinating," he said with a husky voice. It sent shivers down his spine, fear was not something he usually felt but this man and his friends were something to cower and hide.

"I have nothing that may interest you," he said with confidence and anger. He forced the slight fear that he felt away, for he couldn't give him the satisfaction. He was death, the original death spirit, he shouldn't be afraid for anything. He just couldn't help but feel like he did have something they want, maybe even someone. Thanatos was hoping that he was wrong and had nothing. His hopes and thoughts all diminished after another man's words.

"Oh, but you do." The owner of the voice came up behind the other. His long hair was pulled up in a ponytail that reached under his shoulder blades, around his wrists he held broken chains made of thorns. He wore a long white skirt-like-garment. His skin was tanned and adorned with scars, his piercing black eyes held a malevolent glint. He squatted down to his level, gripping his chin and forcing him to gaze into his greedy eyes. "We heard about the winter brat."

 _Jack,_ he came to realize, _they want Jack._ Why? Jack had done nothing to them, why would they want him? Why couldn't anyone leave the poor broken boy alone to heal? Thanatos gave nothing away, staying silent as he watched the two men speak in tongues. Thanatos had to figure out how to get out of there, had to keep Jack Frost safe or at least be able to warn someone. He glanced back to the men who held him hostage, the ones that wanted the boy with nothing. He was surprised at himself from how protective he became of the boy that only wanted to be accepted.

"Struck a nerve?" The first man smirked at Death. "So you do know where he is."

"Wrath, enough," said the second male. He grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the room, leaving Thanatos alone to his thoughts. He felt something that he hadn't felt in a while and gasped softly.

"Jack," he whispered to himself, as the feeling passed. "Please be careful."

* * *

Jack and Mortimer were surrounded by the dreaded Deatheaters and it was not good, especially for Jack who escaped not only death's clutches but the Deatheaters as well. Neither of them moved an inch, trying to find a way out of this scenario. Mortimer glanced at the winter spirit who seemed to have the same idea. The Deatheaters lunged forward only to hit a dome of ice. Mortimer and Jack stared at each other for a second. "Good luck," Mortimer told him, getting a nod in reply.

The dome split in four sections and being sent towards the Deatheaters, killing a few upon impact. They turned to gray dust and were blown away by the wind. Jack and Mortimer fought hard, watching each other's backs. It was going well but that was what got to Jack. Nothing went well, not for him. That was when it went down south.

"Jack!" Mortimer shouted, earning his brother-in-arms attention. A Deatheater had snuck up on him and was about to strike when Mortimer got in between them. The claws struck his chest and with a pained yell, he told Jack to leave him. Jack couldn't, he was still and staring at the guy who helped him in his times of need. With an angry burst, he shot spikes of ice at the Deatheater and caught his brother before he fell.

"N-no," he whispered, staring at the Reaper. His blue eyes dulling even more, becoming a darker blue. "M-Morty?"

"Jack, find father," he whispered, staring up at his brother. He felt the wound burn with agony as he felt himself fading away. "Be...be careful. I want...you...to smile."

Jack's eyes watered with tears as he held the Reaper. He shook his head, not being able to believe that this was happening to him. "Y-you're going to be okay," he murmured. "You ha-have to be."

"Smile," he prompted, breathing hitching and shaky. He shall not leave this world until he saw a smile on that boy's face. It was painful, agony ripping through his body as he forced himself to stay. "I-it hurts. Ja-Jack, pl-please…smile."

Jack felt the tears fall but the froze upon his face. He held him and tried to smile, but he couldn't bring himself to. He couldn't, not while his brother was dying in his arms. He was in so much pain, he could tell, he wanted to relieve it but he couldn't. Why did this have to happen? Why did it happen to _him_? He closed his eyes, burying his face against his shoulder. "I-I'm s-s-sorry, I-I ca-can't." He hiccuped as he sobbed and rocked the Reaper.

"I-I kn-know you…can." He clenched his eyes shut, shuddering as he clutched the boy. Mortimer smiled slightly as he slowly turned into silver powder. "Thank you."

Every death spirit felt the passing, especially Thanatos and La Muerte. The wind blowing the silver back to the Soul Kingdom as heart wrenching sobs broke through the air. The watery smile Jack had on his face before Mortimer passed, slipped as he clung to the cloak.

 **So this is short and I apologize for how late this was, I had no idea what I could do and inspiration had left me. I will continue this though. I feel like crying for Mortimer. I actually liked him. Any ideas y'all have, I'd like to hear.**


	8. Chapter 8

**I apologize for the long wait! I just had a case of writer's block which is an ongoing disease with me with every single story I write. But I'm back and will do my best to get the rest of my chapters done along with handling school. Other than that, I got this.**

Darkness. That was what Jack can first remember. If someone were to ask him about something that he could think of, darkness was the first thing that would pop into his mind. He didn't know why or how, but he always attracted the darkest of spirits. He sometimes even befriended them. Then again, what went better than cold and dark? Cold and death. Cold and famine. Cold and pestilence. Cold and war. He was not surprised that he got along with the Four Horsemen. He helped them, intentionally or unintentionally. It was part of his nature, a darker and sinister nature that is. He was always careful not to let it out, or may the mortals pray for mercy.

Jack was furious, but he did his best to reign in the emotion. He couldn't let it get the best of him, or a blizzard will start. His dull orbs scanned his surroundings before taking off. His hands clenching the fabric of the cloak. He was going to make the people who took his father pay. If it weren't for them, they wouldn't have been there and Mortimer wouldn't be dead. He headed back to the Soul Kingdom and met up with La Muerte. One look at her—wide eyes full of tears—and he broke down. He fell to his knees, staff discarded right beside him as he held onto the cloak with a death grip.

She went over and wrapped her arms around him, holding him and getting on their knees. "Mi hijo," she murmured in Spanish and comforting him, whispering in her native tongue. She held him, rocking him as he broke down in the loss of his brother, the one that was always there for him for the past few years. It was a sad sight. No one would cry for a Reaper, but here, a winter spirit that was unloved by many, was heart broken and bawling his crystal blue eyes out.

The Reapers knew who was gone now, some that hated him blamed the boy while others knew that it was pointless to blame him, for they knew how close those two were. They were brothers in all but blood. Some had no idea how this was affecting him, but those who believed in Jack did. They just didn't know what was going through his mind. It was not the regular things that happen to them but something much more sinister.

The darkness in his mind grew, creeping at every corner. It was always the same damned darkness that would overtake him when he was saddened or completely and utterly alone. He started hearing the whispers of not La Muerte's but of the Demons' that want to feed of his negativity and insanity. He was trembling in her arms and it was worrisome. The dull blue eyes seemed to get duller, looking a pale blue almost gray. Whatever she was saying was being drowned out by the ones in his head. Then they stop. Something was wrong. This was never a good sign, but then he felt it. It was a tug in his gut and an image shown through his head.

He pulled away from her, eyes wide as heavy breaths came from his mouth. "What is it?" she asked with worry showing clear on her face. She noticed his eyes and it was, well, it was not the same blue. It was getting worse and Thanatos wasn't there to help him.

"I know where he is," he said, looking her dead in the eye. He didn't want it to be true, but it was. He couldn't believe how blinded they were. The Four Horseman and them were completely at each other's throats. "The seven deadly sins have him."

* * *

Thanatos never really thought of him. He always knew that the winter spirit was powerful, but he didn't exactly know how the boy in between worlds harbors a twisted side at the back of his mind. The demons fueled this aspect of the boy with the negative words they would seductively whisper. Life draining out of his beautiful orbs, his smile turning into a thin line or even a frown. How was he holding up? He didn't know. How was La Muerte handling everything? He didn't know that either, but he trusted her well enough.

A woman with dark magenta hair came through the door, her pink dress rippling around her as she walked. Her eyes held a glint of mischief and she held herself up with so much confidence that many would mistake her to be a leader. She stared down at the first Reaper, one of the Four Horsemen. She grinned at him, one that would make most mortals or spirits fall head over heels but it never worked on powerful spirits.

"Lust," said Thanatos as he stared into her orange orbs. "It's been a while, hasn't it? When you threw that temper and made the succubus and incubus?"

She scowled, taking out a whip and lashing it to the side. She was extremely intimidating, not afraid to hurt anyone that got in her way. "Then you must know that I'm not like Pride or Greed."

"Why do you want the Moon's spirit?" He knew that she couldn't keep her mouth closed. Lust was one of the worst sins, she was not merciful. Wrath was the top dog on being merciless to their prisoners or to anyone in general. Thanatos and everyone, who knew of the seven deadly sins, knew this. If you were to be a captive of them, pray for mercy.

"That's for you to find out. Thing is, you'll find out soon enough. He's on his way here."

"No! Leave him alone!" he yelled, yanking on the chains that bind him and weaken his powers. He couldn't let them get to him. He just couldn't. The boy had gone through enough, not to mention that from where he was, he could feel any positive energy that he had dull away and his demons trying to whisper to him. _Jack, please be careful and stay safe._

Lust let out a cackle, shaking her head at the pathetic attempts he did as he tried to at out and protect the boy. "That boy has made you weak, Death." She paused as she grinned savagely at him. "But he'll make us stronger."

 **Alright this story just doesn't know how to quit building up, am I right? Yeah, well I hope y'all continue to keep reading and I'm really hoping y'all review. I'd like to hear some ideas and people's thoughts on this. Thank y'all goodnight/morning.**


	9. Chapter 9

**I apologize for the long wait and the short chapter. I hope y'all like this. If y'all have any ideas for this, please I will gladly enjoy to hear it. I will try to add them in.**

He's never felt this powerful type of fear before. He never once thought it would come from a Horsemen either. Jack Frost was what Death feared, but it was more of the fact that he could be hurt or something. Pitch Black, the Nightmare King, remembered his first encounter with the young spirit. His eyes were the one thing that stood out, missing the spark that every spirit had. It angered him when he remembered the boy's "promise." Then he thought of the way they met, he didn't really give any hints of hating or even fearing him. He didn't really show any type of emotion but he would've been able to have felt his fear as for the hatred he would've done something. Unless the boy was one of the silent hatred type. He didn't know and it hurt his head trying to figure him out.

Pitch wasn't one to think of others but Jack Frost was an enigma. He knew he was despised by the other Moon Spirits but just why? Why did the moon leave such a young and happy spirit to the mercy of the others? The hatred for the moon bloomed in his chest, but it was interrupted when someone came down. The woman was someone he knew, someone who really didn't outcast him but actually tolerate him.

"La Muerte?" he said in slight confusion. "What is the reason for such a surprise visit?"

Her face was solemn and held despair. "I need your help. Jack Frost, he's not his normal self. Thanatos was found, but at a price."

Pitch Black, the Nightmare King could not believe what he was hearing. The boy, the one with no spark but the strong will deep inside, snapped and now worked for the Seven Deadly Sins to bring an eternal winter of chaos.

* * *

It was a painful sight for Thanatos, who had seen the boy become what he had. His snow white hair was cascading down the sides of his face as he was on his hands and knees. His face completely obscured by the white curtain but from the shaking of his shoulders, he was laughing. The demons, the darkness that usually hung in the corners of his mind, digging their claws deeper and deeper into it as the chains on them kept them from doing anything. They were finally able to roam free, nothing could stop them and nothing would ever be able to. They were stronger than given any credit for, they were not going to let anyone banish them back into the cages.

This spirit was not like the one before. This one would be a great destructive force that would not hold back the cruelty of winter. The one that everyone would come to fear, for this one would bring Famine, Pestilence, Death and Wars shall be fought on the snow covered grounds. Anyone not strong enough to face this cruel world will die. This force took limbs of frozen people, killed anyone that were to stay and get lost in the blinding white powder. He would be the ruthless king of winter, everyone whoever hurt and left him to his own mind shall perish by his hand.

The Seven Deadly Sins, also known as Seven Demon Lords, were grinning widely. It was something they should celebrate too. They were to bring such a beautiful chaotic apocalypse and it was one that they were to thank a certain spirit. The one standing before them, blue eyes like shattered glass, madness being held in them. "My name is," he started, pausing slightly as he twirled his staff, a venomous grin spreading across his face. Kids and adults alike will fear his name. No, not just the puny mortals, but the Man in Moon, his spirits and every single being on this world shall tremble in terror at the name of, "Jokul Frosti."


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello! I'm sorry for the wait, writer's block had taken a hold of me and chained me. Also for those he have read Watching the Big Four Movie, I apologize for the lack of update, I have no idea how to continue it. I will do my best to continue. Thank you for your cooperation.**

Jack Frost was watching the Reapers from afar, knowing that many of them didn't like him. "You're the winter spirit, aren't you?" The voice was abrupt and so sudden that he jumped into a defensive position as he pointed at the one who sneaked up on him. He recognized him as one of the leaders of a smaller group that never really got too much attention and were seen as the lowest ranked. He dropped his tensed shoulders, though he was still tensed, but his guard was always up and watched him with a cautious eye. He introduced himself as Mortimer and sat down right beside him, it took some prompting from the older spirit before he sat down as well. The two stayed in a comfortable silence as they watched the others. It was saddening, he had said. That Reapers were feared and hated for the deaths they brought but they would do the same thing to others and even some of their own.

With those few words, Jack was thrown back to the night he was taken by Thanatos to the realm. His first impression was that he would die, be taken away to the Fields of the Lost. He was always...different from the other spirits but without his memories, he had no idea how or why. Maybe it was the fact he was a _whole_ lot younger than them. He had noticed how they all looked older, more adults than a teen that he was. Why was he so much different than everyone else? With the thought in mind he was plunged into a few memories.

 _"You're a_ curse _!" yelled Cupid—Eros to most—glaring at the boy who was gripping his staff with both hands to his chest._

 _"No one wants death or cold around! No one wants_ you _around!" shouted a summer sprite—Amber Cinders—as she glowered down his weakened form._

The voices, the memories, they were too much to handle. It was taking a toll on his young and innocent mind. The demons were born a few scores later, gripping him and chaining him, yelling or whispering lies to him when he slept before getting stronger and stronger by each passing week feeding him lies when he was awake, at every step and turn he would take. They got fiercer and more abusive; soon sucking the life out of him and gaining more and more strength, unknown to the ones at fault.

 _All you bring is death and destruction,_ they would whisper, their claws gripping his shoulders so tight that cold, white blood would trickle out. Their voices were husky and low, suave and persuasive. _No one ever wants that, not even the Death Bringers, themselves._

"Jack?" the voice cut through his musings but it sounded off, almost as if they were under water. He felt hands on his shoulders and panic crossed him as he tried to fight them. "Jack, you're safe! I'm not going to hurt you." His icy blue, sunken and darkened eyes met the dark obsidian irises of the Reaper. He slowly calmed down, tensed like taut woven rope. Mortimer sighed in relief upon seeing the boy back to normal and not clawing at his forearms. He held him in an embrace to keep him from hurting himself further. Persephone—the spirit of springtime—came over and asked what had happen. Mortimer explained the best he could, not knowing himself while the cold boy sat in silence and leaned against his chest.

* * *

The Reapers had been quite silent lately. They had been told about the boy. The one with the dull eyes, the one who lost his mind. Death was distraught, the winter spirit that he had taken in was now a puppet for the Seven Lords. The marionette doll doing as it was told and once given the order, chaos shall reign.

"Those cursed Moon Spirits!" exclaimed La Muerte. She was livid, screaming out curses in Spanish directed to those disgusting creatures. They were the blame for the boy's menta health to be askew, especially Tsar Lunar for ripping the boy from his deserved peaceful afterlife. Persephone came over and hugged the Latina Death Bringer, comforting her the best she could as her orbs flicked over to Thanatos who was in a deep thought.

 _He gaped with wide eyes as he stared at the boy. Agony filled screams ripping from his throat and into the thick tension filled air. How could he have let such an innocent young spirit receive this brutal fate? Ice and snow covered the boy in small storm, circling and keeping anyone from touching him._

"We must not engage the Moon Spirits, it is not in our right to do so unless it's crucial." Thanatos' flames were a blue color, showing his sadness and guilt for not getting to Jack sooner before the wretched Moon grasped him. It would take so long before he could take Jack into his own skeletal arms and release him to his family. Something stopped him, a hole in his chest, as if the thought of returning him to where he was needed and wanted hurt him. Could he do it when the time came?

Pestilence knew what her brother was thinking, knowing for a fact that it was what most Death Bringers thought. They had grown close to the young child of winter and hoped to return him to his normal state, helping him with his demons. Not to mention the nagging thought of losing him and having to formally take him to the afterlife. None of them could ever imagine that day, they hoped it would never come. "Death is right. We must not even make our presence known, War has done that once to find information on our brother. That will be the only reason to ever speak with them. Famine had been tracking Jack—"

"Jokul," cut in a small whisper. They turned to Famine, her sunken eyes held everyone's gaze. "He goes by Jokul and I do not want to associate that _thing_ with our Snow Prince. He may look like him, and sound like him at times but that monster is not him! Jokul is unforgiving and will kill when he gets the chance. At least one of the Seven Sins is always with him. Do _not_ underestimate Jokul, he taps into power that Jack would not _dare_ to use."

It was surprising to say the least. Famine barely ever spoke and when she did, shut up and listen. She was a fierce fighter, never once taking an argument lightly. They all did their best to pitch in plans, they were going to bring back the Snow Prince and they were going to show the Seven Demon Lords that they made a wrong move. _Never touch the broken one for the battle has already won. Not by the both sides, but the one with the demons inside._


End file.
